


The Journal of a Lost Apprentice.

by Renshar



Series: The Record of the Breach Disaster. [1]
Category: Earth - Fandom, Forgotten Realms, Original Work, World of Greyhawk
Genre: Dark Magic, Death Rituals, Earth, Forgotten Realms Elements, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Magic, Multi, Oops..., Original Character(s), Other, The Underdark (Forgotten Realms), This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This was not how this was supposed to turn out..., Well... Shit..., Why Did I Write This?, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renshar/pseuds/Renshar
Summary: Why him? Why not the blacksmith, or that brute of a partner, or hell... Why not Nari? Why is it when something of Master Renshars exploded... why is it that he always manages to take the blast full force...Before he could answer the why and how... He had to answer the where...As in... WHERE THE FUCK WAS HE?Then... a different why...As in...  Why the fuck was it SO COLD!
Relationships: Original Characters/Original Characters
Series: The Record of the Breach Disaster. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061942





	The Journal of a Lost Apprentice.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for checking this out! Please wait until the end before requesting the site mods delete this, please...?

Hurt... everything hurt... Where was he? Nym-Rial, Drow scholar and apprentice of the Arcanum Tower... was very confused... his robes, normally a nice maroon, were covered in soot and ash... he had his favorite boots on, and the basilisk leather they were made from had scorch marks... his gloves were ruined rags on his hands... said hands had burns and cuts on them...

Aside from his robes, pants, and boots... he had nothing on him, where was his equipment? The backpack the Tower had demanded all apprentice and journeyman mages wear? The sword that Dormin had given him? Where was... HIS SPELL BOOK! 

A spike of adrenaline surged through the young mages body, and he looked around himself for the first time. He was in a forest, tall evergreen trees, the scent of soil and the faint smell of a lightning strike... He was in a crater in some forest on the side of a mountain, snow and ash fell in equal measure. The snow was coming from above him, 'the sky' his tomes on the surface had called it. The ash? That came from the trees that were casually on fire around his little crater. it looked like someone had thrown a fireball into the ground. Where was he? More importantly, where was his spell book?! Panic started to mount inside the mind of the young mage. He got out of the hole started to look around, maybe his stuff had just fallen off of him when he fell here? That theory had more than a few flaws, not the least of which is the fact he had no idea how he got here, or where here even was! Snow was starting to fall in the area, and Nym-Rial was starting to have a full meltdown at the thought of being stranded in some random forest without his spells... 

An explosion heralded the arrival of a flash of metal and a blade was lodged in the tree not 2 feet away from where Nym-Rial had been standing. The Wood sizzled and the sword gave off heat in near physical waves. The leather handle wrap was scorched and the adamantine blade was a little bent... How much force had acted on the weapon to cause it to warp?! That was definitely the same short sword that Dormin had given him for his 112th birthday... While he waited for the weapon to cool off, another explosion sounded farther away, and a heavy thumping sound followed quickly... Just what was going on? As he was walking toward the sound of the second blast, the smell of burnt potions and scorched scrolls filled the air... wasted magics... 

It was with a knowing pout that Nym-Rial crested a small hill... to find the remains of his back pack... surrounded by broken glass, and scroll ashes... "Oh come on..." Then, there was another blast, not more then 10 or maybe 20 feet away! Turning quickly, he only got a glance at what was flying at him before it struck him in the face. "Fuc-" *Whack!* The iron and leather bindings on the heavy book left imprints on his face as he fell to the ground, the hefty tome clotheslining the young drow. 

Well... he knew where his spell book was now... Currently about 10 feet away, where it had bounced... Nym-Rial laid on the nice, cold ground for longer than he would later admit to, then... he got up, and proceeded to start cursing. "Crapcrapcrap! Burning book!"

All things considered? It wasn't irreparably damaged, it had only lost a few pages to the fire, the rest were just badly scorched... the biggest problem? He had lost most of the spells he had stored... Just because the pages were not ruined...didn't mean the complex arcane notations written on them weren't... He had, Mend, thank the gods, firebolt, and prestidigitation left in his spell book... all 0th circle spells... Cantrips, some adventurers called them... 

This did upgrade his situation though, he was not stranded in unknown territory with no knowledge of how he got there and nothing to his name, No he was stranded in unknown territory with no knowledge of how he got there with a damaged short sword and cheap magical tricks at his disposal... What was it that Master Renshar had liked to say? Up dung river without a boat? Thankfully his backpack wasn't as ruined as it had seemed at first glance. It just had a massive hole in the side, and was doused in about 4 different potions... all the potions he had in his backpack... Alchemy wasn't his strong suit... but he was certain that mixing that many magically active reagents and ingredients couldn't end well... he would have to wash it at the nearest water source... The scroll ashes he saved, it could be used to create a spell quality ink... and that would be sorely needed if he was here long enough. Nym-Rial dearly hoped that he wouldn't be here that long... where ever 'here' was. After collecting and slightly repairing his things thanks to the mend spell, thanks gods, the short sword was cool enough to try and pry out of the tree. Which wasn't easy, but he couldn't exactly leave it behind... 

After gathering both his things, and his wits... Nym-Rial found a small cave nearby, its stone embrace reminding him of his Underdark home... He gathered some firewood, lit it with prestidigitation... and then tried his best to remember what hell happened before he woke up on the surface during the cold season...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed that. Guess I am doing this... Gods... what am I thinking?


End file.
